


Brown

by Chris_Evans_Indian_Fanfic



Category: Before We Go (2014), Nick Vaughan - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:42:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26029648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chris_Evans_Indian_Fanfic/pseuds/Chris_Evans_Indian_Fanfic
Summary: Description: Nick Vaughan meets the Reader for the first time after the end of the movie Before We Go.Warning: None. Some sadness in the beginning but overall fluff with a happy ending. I managed to keep this one appropriate for all ages 😅😅I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.
Relationships: nick vaughan x reader, nick vaughan x y/n, nick vaughan x you
Kudos: 4





	Brown

Life felt dull. Boring. Plain. Desolate. 

Life felt brown for Nick Vaughn. 

After dropping off Brooke, the married art consultant whom he had unfortunately developed feelings for, Nick had skipped his audition for Duke Terry. Always the one to look for signs, he thought letting Brooke go was an indication that, maybe, he should let go of his jazz career as well. 

He crashed at his friend's place in New York for a few days, hoping to find a sign, a direction, or just a goddamn clue about what should he do with his life, now that he was all alone. Nick's long days turned into even longer nights, with beer always available to give him company.

Finally, on the 15th day of his self-inflicted house arrest, his friend finally pushed him out of the door, urging him to take a walk and explore, "Get out! You are not going to get a sign while wallowing in your sadness!" his roommate exclaimed.

Nick's steps were measured on the sidewalk, barely making any progress. He looked around and saw multiple signs of the shops hung at both the sides of the road. _Not exactly the signs I am looking for_ , he muttered under his breath.

The vivid colours around him turned darker and murkier, turning into filthy shades of brown to compliment his mood. As he turned the corner, sweet notes of music somehow managed to break through his swamp of a mood, luring him inside the black record store as if in a trance.

 **6 BLOCKS AWAY** , you were working on your script, furiously typing away on your laptop. You groaned into your coffee as you re-read your pages, and swiftly clicked on "DELETE". Your story about a jazz musician who goes from rags to riches to rags again was already done to death. Growing up surrounded by wonderful jazz culture, you were hell-bent on writing a story that represented the magic created by this genre of music. 

You took your coffee to go, heading towards a quaint records store nearby. Maybe inspiration was waiting for you in a shiny black record? 

Just outside your next destination, an oblivious passerby managed to barge into you, spilling your coffee on your dress, barely missing the laptop case. _Great, just what I needed,_ you muttered entering the store.

"Hey girl what's- ohh why the frown?" Earl greeted you as you stepped inside. 

"You ever think to yourself, why me? That's exactly what I am thinking right now Earl," you replied none too gracefully, placing your laptop case on the billing counter. 

"Here use these napkins to wipe that off. What is it? Coffee?" You nodded in response. "You can hardly see it on your brown dress doll," Earl assured you. 

"I am stuck on my script Earl," you admitted, "I have to submit it in a week and… ugh I just don't know what to write! You have been the owner of this store for almost 40 years now-" 

"52," Earl corrected you with pride. 

"Help me," you slumped your shoulders.

"I don't know nothing about scripts doll. But I do know what will inspire you." He nodded his head towards Nick, "See that tall drink of a man? That's your inspiration right there."

"Who is he?" you inquired.

"I don't know."

"Then how can he help me?"

"Have you seen him doll?" Earl cocked an eyebrow, "That man had me wishing I was 30 years younger. Just look at that back, those thighs, and the plump butt-"

"You are married Earl," you reminded him, breaking his trance.

He smirked at you, "So what? Just because I have a husband at home didn't mean I can't look at the menu. A damn fine menu at that."

You chuckled, shaking your head, "This better work Earl. Tell James I said hi."

"Will do," Earl called out after you as you headed towards the mystery stranger.

You had to admit, he was more than pleasant to look at. As he was busy listening to a record via headphones, you tapped his shoulder to get his attention. Nothing prepared you for the mesmerizing blue eyes that pierced through your heart.

He stared at you intently, waiting for you to speak. When you didn't, he just said a small, "Hi." Clearing your throat, you introduced yourself. "Are you a musician?" you asked him.

"Did my depressed looks give me away?" the corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards.

"Oh no no, you look damn fine. I-I mean good. You look good," you gushed, barely managing to keep a straight face, "The reason I asked you is because this shop is not exactly a hotspot for music listeners. Very few musicians know about this place."

"I was a musician. Used to play the trumpet, but not anymore," he shared solemnly.

"Oh that is actually perfect!" you claimed excitedly, "You see I am a script-writer and I am currently working on a story about a jazz musician. Maybe you can give me some pointers?"

The man narrowed his eyes, "I am sorry I don't think I can help you." He started making his way towards the exit.

"No wait," you almost shouted, "Listen. I am really desperate." You grabbed his upper-arm and turned him around gently. You didn't let go as he faced you. Wow, you thought, feeling the thick, strong muscle beneath your fingers.

It was then that Nick actually looked at you. He took in the colour of your eyes, the shape of your face and your lips. He glanced down, noticing how well the dress draped over your figure. Were you really wearing a brown dress? He looked around the store, the dull surroundings suddenly restoring themselves to their original colour. The sepia decor turned into shades of pastel blue and green as the covers of the albums transformed to bright yellow, orange, red and black.

He looked at you again, your dress still brown as you made your case, asking his help for a script. As you let go of his arm, the world started to turn a shade of brown. Yet, it restored when he inhaled your perfume. 

"Please, is a sign," your sweet voice broke his train of thought. 

"A sign?" Nick managed to ask.

"Yes a sign! I have to submit my script in a week and I have absolutely no idea what goes on in a jazz musician's life! I came here to talk to Earl," you gestured towards the cash register and Earl enthusiastically waved at Nick, "and I met you! A real musician! Please help me. I will even buy you lunch," you offered.

"Lunch is a good idea, since you surely cannot be trusted with coffee," Nick smiled. 

You blushed looking down at your dress. "I am Nick," he extended his palm. Shaking it, you started, "Hi Nick. I am-"

"I know you already told me," he interrupted you, repeating your name. 

Earl threw you a wink as you both stepped out the door. Nick's phone buzzed. He beamed as he read the message; Duke Terry's team still wanted him to come and audition for them. Turns out the vacancy for a trumpet player hadn't been filled yet.

His eyes never left you as the two of you walked down the street, his attention lost to your voice as you explained what you needed from him. 

Maybe he was meant to leave the house today. Maybe he was destined to run into you. Maybe you were the sign that he was looking for. Whatever it was, he was sure about one thing, brown was definitely one of his favourite colours now.


End file.
